


Chance Encounter

by Mems



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, One Shot, back story, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:45:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mems/pseuds/Mems
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the interior, there was no threat of an attack from titans. No fear of being eaten, no fear of the protective walls surrounding you crashing down around your loved ones. Behind the walls of Sina, life was perfect. For most, it was the pinnacle of a beautiful existence.  </p><p>But even beautiful things have dark secrets that go unspoken. After all, everyone talked about how pretty living inside Sina could be. </p><p>No one ever talked about how downright ugly it actually was. </p><p>-A young Levi has what he expects is his first and last encounter with Erwin Smith of the Scouting Legion-</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> One shot set to an old head canon that I had that I no longer use, but I'm still very... fond? Of this, with it being my first contribution to the SNK fandom. It won't be continued, and is to be taken as a one-shot, but feel free to leave comments on it. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy reading :3

Life in the interior. Those who lived in the outer walls craved it, and the fools crazy enough to join the military strived for the coveted top ten spots that would allow them to escape there. Life in the interior was ideal; the food was richer, the streets were cleaner. Women donned ruffled dresses and men sported tailored coats. Both wore shoes more finely polished than the china sets used for afternoon tea.

In the interior, there was no threat of an attack from titans. No fear of being eaten, no fear of the protective walls surrounding you crashing down around your loved ones. Behind the walls of Sina, life was perfect. For most, it was the pinnacle of a beautiful existence.  

  But even beautiful things have dark secrets that go unspoken. After all, everyone talked about how pretty living inside Sina could be.

 No one ever talked about how downright ugly it actually was.

There were those, like fifteen year old Levi Rivaille, son of a Noble’s maid, who saw the interior for what it was. It was dark, and meek, and those without means often times ended up in the streets begging for food only to be left to rot away. There were those, still ever unlucky, who had the misfortune to actually live. Those were the pitiable ones.

They were the ones who toiled every day in fields or in Noble’s homes, making less in a month than what a Noble made in a day. They were the ones whose daughters and sons ended up in dank cellars of the underground, passed from one foul man to another for pennies to make ends meet. They were the poor, sad souls who trained their boys to fight, not to go off and work for the military, but to have the knowledge to kill if they needed to in the illegal fighting rings sponsored by the very bastards that they served in the day light.

That was the true life in the interior, and was the life that Levi knew all too well. Where his days were spent in servitude to one kind of hell, his nights were spent lurking among things far worse. Sometimes he was lucky and all he had to do was fight; that wasn’t as hard for him. Then there were other nights, nights he hated more and more as he spent them, where he’d lay with god knows who and try to forget the hands that roamed his still-young body, try to ignore the mixture of sweat and fluid that stained his clothes as he pocketed his earnings and limped back home.

He’d avoid his mother on those nights. He’d make sure she was fast asleep by the time he got back. It was good when she was caught up deep enough in it that his fist full of change and bills hitting her night stand didn’t wake her, and the scent of the poor people’s soap used to wash away his filth didn’t cause her to stir. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what he was doing, but it was easier all the same if they pretended.

Tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight was one of the lucky nights. A night in the ring was far less demeaning than a night in the bed, and Levi found there was some sick sense of pleasure in being able to take your anger out on someone as pathetically off as you were.

He’d wager, though, that the boy he was currently fighting was slightly less well off than he was. The red-head was skinnier and paler, and his eyes sunk in to his face like he hadn’t slept in weeks. When Levi got close to him to throw a punch he could tell his opponent hadn’t bathed in at least that amount of time. The poor red-haired bastard could barely even stand, and every blow that Levi dealt only had the kid’s reaction time running slower.

He almost felt sorry for the boy. But Levi knew that feeling sorry didn’t win fights, and loosing meant no pay. _He_ couldn’t afford that. His _mother_ couldn’t afford that.

His next fist dealt a hard blow to the red-head’s face. He could feel bone crunch beneath his hand and as he watched the boy’s eyes close and his body crash to the ground, he felt a pang where he figured his heart was.

That boy probably wasn’t going to eat tonight because of him.

Almost as soon as the other boy hit the ground, the Watchers had come to remove his body from the ring. They’d see to it that he wasn’t permanently damaged—at least not so much in a way that the kid would end up dead—and send the boy back to whatever festering hole he had clawed his way out of.

Hands clapped Levi’s back and soon the other boy’s body was out of sight. Money was shoved into Levi’s hands and pockets. He absently counted it as it accumulated.

A hundred and fifty dollars. His winnings for beating up a little shit who could barely stand.

 _How pathetic_ , he thought to himself.

An announcement rang out over the loud and sweaty crowd huddled around the ring. It named Levi the winner of the match and began to announce the unfortunate pair of schmucks that would be fighting next, as well as when everyone should meet for the next fight. Levi ignored the first half of the message and picked out the details of the last bit. Same time, ten days from now.

That was an awful lot of time...

A sigh was heaved and nothing more. He strode from the ring, hands in pockets and eyes forward. Through the throng he walked, bumping bodies with people a good foot taller than he was. Their attention was already on whoever was fighting next or on a bookie trying to accept bets. A few faces he recognized as acquaintances of his Master, and he gave them all looks that could burn through the Wall Sina itself.

Disgusting people.

The sounds of laughter and shouting died down behind Levi as he wound his way through the hall and slowly up the stairs. His body moved as if by memory; how many times had he walked this path during his life? At hundred? A thousand?

After a while the count had started to blur in his mind and he didn’t find a need to care anymore.

The scent of beer and stale perfume hit his nose as he pushed open the door at the top of the stairs. Lingering patrons of the bar that the fighting ring was under looked his way but were either too drunk to make much of his appearance or didn’t care. Whichever the reason, he was all too eager to leave the place as quickly as possible.

Cold air nipped at his sweaty skin as soon as he stepped outside the bar. The streets were empty and the moon was high.

He breathed in, long and slow. His lungs stung with the coolness.

And then he was off.

The streets of the inner wall were neat and orderly. Even in the district of the bar he had just come from, an outsider wouldn’t be able to tell what kind of shady dealings went on under the cover of night. But Levi knew. Here and there tiny red signs hung on door knobs of establishments or houses where you could find prostitutes; at every twentieth block, there was a peddler that would sell you any kind of contraband you could possibly think of. You could always tell the peddlers from any normal person walking along the street. Long black coats that looked bigger than they should have been always gave them away.

On this night, Levi avoided both. He knew that if you weren’t careful enough, a peddler would try and rope you into a sell and he was all too familiar with the pimps of the sex shops and was certain that _that_ was not something he’d be able to deal with tonight. His body was already sore and filthy enough as it was.

He wished he could just bathe already.

He trudged along; meandering through the roads he knew well trying to ignore the ache in his muscles. His eyes averted the occasional ragged beggar leaned against a building’s side. He learned long ago there was no use in pity, that it was impossible to try and help everyone.

When you’re as low as a dog the only thing you can do is help yourself.

Every now and then he’d pass someone who had been drinking too much coming from one of the residences. He did well to ignore their slurred cat-calls and crude remarks until a familiar voice called out to him.

“Oi! Rivaille!”

The skin on the back of his neck prickled. He halted and stared with grey eyes over his shoulder. A small group of men a few years older than himself stood at one of the doors not too far from him, sloppily hanging over each other. He knew every member of that group and his stomach sank.

Before he could make to turn away from them, the largest of the five men began lumbering over towards him and the others followed suit. They staggered and Levi wondered if perhaps they’d end up being too drunk to deal out their usual treatment.

The big one slurred out his name again. Levi could smell the alcohol on his body.

“Arthur,” he spoke out coolly. The other stopped in front of him, a crooked grin smeared over his freckled face.

“I heard you won again Rivaille. Congrats.” Levi held back a snort. As if that’s really what Arthur wanted to talk to him about.

“What do you want Arthur? It’s late and unlike you I have shit to do in the morning.”

The large man’s eyes flashed. “Tha’s not very nice eh, Rivaille. My mates and I just came over to congratulate you is all.”

Before Levi could react, Arthur’s fingers snapped and Levi was suddenly pushed to his knees. His arms were jerked behind his back and he grunted out. So it was going to be five against one this time?

“This is the fourth fight you’ve won this month that you’ve not paid me my dues, _Rivaille_.”  

“Sorry, must’ve forgotten.”

A swift kick to the face had Levi’s nose drenching his front in hot blood.

“Did you think—“ _whack_ “—that you could get away—“ _whack_ “—with cheating me out of my money—“ _whack_ “—you sad little—“ _whack_ “— _piece of shit?”_

Levi struggled against the hold of his attacker’s accomplices as Arthur’s booted foot ravaged his body. Old bruises were teased and new ones were surely cropping up. Levi could feel places where his skin was split open; pain shot through his body down to his bones.  

He never made a sound.

Arthur continued with his ministrations as his comrades egged him on with “yea man, teach him a lesson” and high, drunken laughs that pierced Levi’s ears. With two men at each of his arms and their bodies keeping his legs pinned, there was nothing more that he could do but take what he was getting.

As Arthur continued to kick him, the other men began dipping their hands into his pockets, pulling out the money he had won from his fight. The sound of coins hitting the pavement rang in his ears and he began to panic. Levi turned his head to the side, preparing to bite the first one he could manage to get at.

They could _not_ take his money.  

Unforgiving hands wormed their way into his hair and jerked his head back before he could do so, popping his neck roughly. Levi’s eyes met Arthur’s for a moment brief moment. He could pure enjoyment dancing the man’s eyes before a fist collided with the side of his face.

Only held up by the hands gripping his arms, he slouched forward and coughed. Blood hacked up in the back of his throat and he spit it out. The mixture of spit and fresh blood spattered on the pavement with a sickening _splat_. Levi eyed the mess scornfully.

Arthur tch’d and brought the toe of his boot up under Levi’s chin, forcing him to look the man in the eyes again.

“Are you _trying_ to get my boot dirty, you shit?”

Another kick to the face splits open his lip. The next one is aimed for his gut. Through rough draws of air, Levi wheezes out a laugh.

“Your shitty boot was already filthy. Didn’t the military teach you anything about cleanliness?”

Arthur’s hands fist themselves into the front of Levi’s stained shirt, jerking him from his captor’s grasp. His feet dangled inches from the ground while his face is forced closely to Arthur’s.

“And what the hell would a whore like you know about _cleanliness_ , hmm, Rivaille? Or have you forgotten I know about that too?”

Levi’s grey eyes narrowed.

“Fuck you.”

Arthur began to laugh. Its cruel baritone pounded against Levi’s ears. Before the battered boy could stop himself, the small amount of spit he could muster up in his mouth was launched into the man’s face.

In a second Levi was on the ground, Arthur’s body pinning his to the pavement as the man’s hand took old of his throat. Levi clawed at it, drawing in tiny tendrils of air and bucking his hips, trying to throw the other off. He managed to kick his foot up far enough to strike Arthur in the back. The action only made the man angrier.  

“You son of a—“

Suddenly, Arthur’s body lifted off of Levi’s and he sucked in a breath. He coughed a bit and rolled over, pushing his body up into a sitting position. He heard a low, dangerous voice over where Arthur’s body had been pulled to.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Levi looked over. Arthur was standing face to face with a man Levi had never seen before. He was about as big as Arthur was, solid as a brick house, with blonde hair parted in a way Levi only saw from men in the military. From what Levi could make out, the man had a hold of Arthur’s front, though Arthur made no move to loosen the other man’s grip. For some reason, Arthur’s goons hadn’t made a move to do anything to the man, either.

“Teaching a street punk a lesson. He owed me money. This isn’t any of your business, Erwin.”

So they knew big blonde guy after all.

“I don’t owe you shit,” Levi spat out before the other man could answer. Whether he knew Arthur and his gang or not, Levi didn’t care. He wasn’t about to let Arthur spin some fabrication for the new guy.

 Arthur tossed a look of pure loathing over his shoulder.

“Why you—“

“I think,” the blonde started, drawing Arthur’s attention back to him. “That you and your friends should go home. Now.” The man’s voice rang with authority. He then went on to speak words so low that Levi couldn’t hear them, but whatever he had said seemed light a fire under Arthur’s ass.

“Tch,” he commented. “Come on guys, let’s leave the little punk for this guy.” He threw a dark look in Levi’s direction and dropped his voice so the blonde couldn’t hear. “See you around, _Rivaille_.”

The four men who had held Levi down didn’t hesitate in the slightest at the command. The group of five stalked down the opposite end of the street, leaving curses behind them as they disappeared out of sight.

The blonde man who had pulled Arthur off of Levi watched them as their bodies faded away, and Levi watched him warily. It was not often a stranger took the time to help out another; he couldn’t help but wonder what it was the other wanted from him.

The man turned and looked down at Levi with brilliant blue eyes. The man frowned and began to walk over to him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, stopping in front of Levi. He held out a hand expectantly. Levi didn’t take his eyes off the stranger. Instead, he forced his body to stand, painfully dragging up his limbs as he brushed the dirt off his body.

“I’m fine,” he said tersely after a few moments. The other man retracted his hand.

“What did those men want from you?”

“My money.”

“Why?”

An annoyed sound bubbled in the back of his throat.

“I dunno, because they’re thugs who take pleasure in exploiting the weak? Why the hell do you think?”

The blonde’s eyebrow raised and Levi prepared himself for the other to start getting violent with him.

“You’re right. What a stupid question. I’m sorry for prying,” the blonde apologized. Levi scoffed.

“Whatever. Is there a _reason_ you helped me?” Levi shot the man a cautious look and waited for his answer. The other looked confused.

“I helped you because you needed it. Should there be a different reason?”

Levi snorted. “Usually people want things in return for sticking their necks out around here. So what is it? Money? Contraband?” he eyed the man. “A fuck, perhaps? Old guys like you like boys like me.”

The look of surprise on the older man’s face shocked Levi and would have made him laugh if he wasn’t in a hurry to get whatever the man was going to ask him for over with.

“Well?” Levi prompted.

The man coughed awkwardly. “I helped you because you needed it,” he repeated firmly. “Not because I wanted anything else.”

The words pattered around Levi’s brain for a few moments. That was a new one. He had been helped before by strangers, but this was the first time that one had not asked him for something in return.

Either way, the situation unnerved him. No one did something for someone without something in return, ever. And as far as he was concerned, he was going to get the hell away from the other man before he changed his mind.

He began to pick up the remnants of the money that the men hadn’t managed to take from him, and picked through his pockets to see if perhaps he was lucky enough to have a decent amount of bills left.

The money left on his person was less than half of what he had won.

“Son of a bitch” he hissed, shoving the remnants of his winnings back into his ragged pockets. The amount of _shit_ he would have to do just to make up for this _one night_ —

“Do you need help getting home?”

Levi turned back to the man. He grimaced; the blonde was giving him the most pitiable look imaginable.

“I think I can find my own home, thank you.”

The man looked like he wanted to say something, but Levi didn’t give him the chance. He gave the other a parting nod and turned, being sure to take his steps carefully.

Tomorrow was going to be hell after the beating he just got.

He was about ten steps down the road before the man called back out to him.

“Hey! What’s your name, by the way?”

Levi rolled his eyes.

“Why do you need to know?” He didn’t bother turning around.

“I like putting names to faces. Consider it your payment for me helping you.”

Levi held in a groan. Turns out you can’t get help without giving something in return after all.

“It’s Levi. Levi Rivaille.”

He heard something akin to a satisfied sound coming from the other man and continued walking on.

“My name’s Erwin,” the man called to him. “Erwin Smith.”

Levi ignored the man, not understanding why he had felt the need to share his name. Erwin Smith, huh? He could have sworn he heard that name before…

~*~

Thirty minutes later the young, broken boy drug his feet through the door of the small home he and his mother shared. He couldn’t bring himself to walk into her room, not in the state he was in. As he entered his own, he couldn’t bother himself enough to remove his bloody clothes before tenderly lying himself on the hard mattress of his bed. His encounter with Erwin Smith flitted through his mind once more, and he couldn’t help but wonder why the man had asked for and given his name.

     As his lids drooped down over his grey eyes, though, he couldn’t help but be grateful that that was the only thing the man had taken from him that night. After all, what was a name to someone you were never going to see again? 


End file.
